Better Than Him
by Tarafina
Summary: "The greatest mistake of his life will forever be the day he walked away. But the greatest triumph of yours can be the day you realize that your life didn't end when you were five..." PxR


**Title**: Better Than Him  
><strong>Category<strong>: Glee  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Angst/Romance  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Rachel/Puck, Pa!Puckerman  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Teen  
><strong>Warning(s)<strong>: Coarse Language  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Scene from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air  
><strong>WillPuck**: Hey, you no what, you ain't got to do nothing, Uncle Phil. You know, ain't like I'm still five years old, you know? Ain't like I'm gonna be sitting every night asking my mom 'when's daddy coming home?' You know? Who needs him? Hey, he wasn't there to teach me how to shoot my first basket, but I learned it, didn't I? And I got pretty damn good at it too, didn't I, Uncle Phil?  
><strong>Uncle PhilRachel:** Yeah, you did.  
><strong>WillPuck**: Got to do my first date without him, right? I learned how to ride, I learned how to shave, I learned how to fight without him. I had *fourteen* great birthdays without him; he never even sent me a damn card. I didn't need him then, I won't need him now.  
><strong>Uncle PhilRachel**: Will...  
><strong>WillPuck**: No, you know what, Uncle Phil? I'm gonna get through college without him, I'm gonna get a great job without him, I'm gonna marry me a beautiful honey and I'm having a whole bunch of kids. I'm gonna be a better father than he ever was. And I sure as hell don't need him for that, 'cause there ain't a damn thing he can teach me about how to love my kids! The hell with him! [long pause; he's crying] How come he don't want me, man? - **p****uckrachel** drabble meme  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 6,038  
><strong>Summary<strong>: "The greatest mistake of his life will forever be the day he walked away. But the greatest triumph of yours can be the day you realize that _your _life didn't end when you were five. Maybe it paused, maybe it slipped off track, maybe it hindered your growth some, but it did _not_ stop you…"

**_Better Than Him_**  
>-11-

She found him sitting on the bleachers, a bottle of Jack in his hand. There was about 3.5 seconds of shame before he figured _fuck it_ and took another long swig. She sighed, crossing to sit next to him, tucking her tiny skirt beneath her before sitting down, all gentle like. She was quiet, saying nothing as she stared out at the dark expanse of football field. If it weren't for the flood lights, they'd be blind as bats out there. There was a part of him that wanted to get up and leave; to tell her to quit with the consoling shit, but she hadn't said a damn thing so he figured he might as well see what move she tried. He was pretty partial to comfort (pity) sex, but even half-drunk he knew Berry wasn't like that. So he waited on the monologue long guilt trip she'd probably give him for being out late on a school night, getting pissed on school property, with no designated driver and with glee tomorrow _obviously _his vocal chords didn't need the stress. He rolled his eyes and waited, already coming up with five or six comebacks, insults, and various others ways to annoy her enough she'd give up on him.

That was problem number one with his plan. 'Cause Rachel Berry? About the furthest thing from a quitter there ever was. His lip curled in a sneer; too bad the same couldn't be said for Eli Puckerman, whose middle name might as well have been Deadbeat.

Problem number two was that all of his planning to piss her off was pretty much shot dead when she spent the next five minutes doing nothing but shiver in silence.

"Fucksakes," he finally muttered, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over her shoulders.

She glanced at him, those big brown doe eyes hitting him like a Mac truck. He scowled, turning away, but there was a moment where underneath the haze of alcohol and anger, he felt proud. 'Cause Rachel Berry was wearing his Lettermen's jacket, hugging it tight around her little body, and sighing all soft and thankful. For a second, he was the shit. The man. And then he was just _Puck _again, fuck up extraordinaire. He chugged another guzzle off his whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. The burn felt good, familiar, but it settled like a lead weight in his stomach. Like father like son. Jaw ticking, eyes narrowed, he tossed the bottle hard, listening until he heard the crash and shatter of it far down the benches. Leaning back on his elbows, he looked over at her, a little surprised she didn't immediately start complaining that he was littering or that somebody could get hurt or _blah blah blah_… But there was nothing, she was quiet, and it felt off, _wrong_.

He sighed, cocking a brow. "How'd you find me?"

She vaguely glanced over her shoulder at him, face angled away. He didn't like that either, 'cause Rachel was one of those look you right in the eyes type, all passionate and crazy and _listen to me while I'm talking to you… _And he hated to admit it, but that shit worked on him. Maybe 'cause he knew with her she wasn't going to berate him for being a stupid loser, she was just going to tell him _why _he was wrong and how he could _fix _it. Shitty thing was there was no quick-fix to this mess. To his _life_.

"Your mother called me," she finally said, her voice soft, detached. "She said your father called and you were… upset."

He snorted. Upset was an understatement. He was pretty sure he broke some shit; like threw a lamp through a wall. Not _at_, motherfucking _through_… And he remembered his sister crying, _screaming_, terrified. Guilt ate at the edges of his buzz again but he stuffed it down and away. He'd never hurt them, they knew that. _Right? _Whatever. So he was pissed and he took it out on some furniture. Eli Puckerman was the king of all fuck-ups and he thought he could just call them up like they were just sitting around waiting for him to screw them over again? And he did, like always. 'Cause Papa Puckerman went and got himself a new wife and a new son and he'd really appreciate it if they didn't make a big scene about it 'cause Puckerman family 2.0 were moving back toLima to settle in. And fuck that shit!

"I had an inkling of where you might go. I had thought to call Finn's, but you and he have been less than cordial lately, so I decided to think outside of the box."

Less than cordial? Guess that happened somewhere between him promising to stay away from Berryand then spending the next year just on the fringes of being _something _to her. Friend, boyfriend, make-out partner for special occasions. So maybe telling Finn he'd keep his hands to himself had been really stupid. 'Cause as soon as he didn't have Lauren there to distract him, he went right back to being that dude with unrequited feelings for his best bud's (sort of) girl. And some part of him, the reckless douche that always got him into trouble, thought Finn shouldn't even _have _a claim if he wasn't going to do anything to lock that shit down. They were graduating in a few months and the Finchel ship had sailed. So why the hell was Puck the one holding the white flag? And he must be drunker than he thought if he was getting sappy about this.

She hugged her arms around her waist and blew out a breath that puffed white in the cool air. "Your father played wide receiver for the Titans when he was your age, didn't he?"

He stared at her. "He was shit at it. He had all these stories like he was some god of football but I looked it up… The only games they won were from _default!_" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I got into football because of him and it was a _lie_. Like _everything _that douche _ever _says!" He clenched his teeth. "Y'know, I loved _baseball _when I was a kid. I was the best kid on that t-ball team! But then he says he was a football man and I dropped that glove so fast…" He breathed out hard and thick when his eyes burned. "Maybe if I'd stuck with it I'd have a scholarship right now and not three years of being on the shittiest team in all ofOhio…"

She was quiet a long moment before finally smiling. "Summer of 2000, you were five and I was four… Your game got washed out and your mother was lamenting she'd never get the mud out of your white pants… She wanted to put your glove in the trunk but you held it in your lap the whole ride back to your place. You said the heat could damage the leather… And then you scrubbed it dry with a towel, ten minutes straight, because you were worried about water damage."

How'd she even _remember _that? Shit, it was forever ago… And a month before pops said he was going out to a gig, duffel bag and guitar case in hand, and didn't come back.

She tucked her hands under her chin and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "You were a wonderful baseball player, Noah. But you were only a child and children naturally want to do what their parents want them to." She shrugged. "It's instinctual, I think."

"Yeah, well, apparently his instincts were to turn me into him and then cut and run as soon as possible," he muttered, shaking his head.

"He was wrong." She licked his lips. "And he'll spend the rest of his life knowing that he left behind a gifted son who grew up to become a truly talented and intelligent man…"

"Right…" he scoffed, bitterly. "That's why I did everything he did. S'why I screwed over my best friend and got Quinn pregnant. Why I got tossed in juvie for stealing a fucking ATM. I'm just MVP of sons,Berry, how'd he ever walk away?"

She was quiet again and he was really starting to hate that; how she could just let the silence fill up all the space between them, like maybe she was agreeing with him. Maybe she was starting to figure it out; how screwed up he really was. How _unworthy _he was for her to even be wasting her time on. Lima Loser was stamped on his forehead in permanent ink and it wasn't going anywhere. He'd already accepted it, so why the fuck was she fighting it anymore?

"Did you love Quinn, Noah?" she asked. Breezily. Simple. Like she was asking the time.

He didn't answer. 'Cause that felt like a lifetime ago and it was only a couple years.

"I think you did… I think you had feelings for her that surprised you; that went deeper than you ever expected. So deep you were willing to forget about Finn for an afternoon, willing to do whatever it took to have her. And what you did was wrong, yes. It was hurtful and it resulted in a pregnancy neither of you were prepared for. But poor judgment doesn't make you a monster, Noah. Falling in love doesn't make you anything less than human." She turned her head away and peered out at the dark field.

Maybe. He remembered what it was like loving Quinn Fabray. On the outside looking in, seeing Finn so happy with her. He'd liked her before he slept with her, wanted her for awhile, and maybe he thought that was love at the time. That need to get her to see him, the _real _him. But things changed when she got pregnant. Suddenly she was gonna be the mom to his kid. And that mattered. That was huge. That was him needing to step up and stand by her and be needed. Only she didn't _want _him; she wanted Finn. And suddenly he wasn't good enough again. He kept trying and he did what he could and things got easier when the truth was out and he wasn't just some guy anymore. But she'd made it clear that he was the loser and Finn was the winner and even when she couldn't have Finn, she only needed Puck to get her through the pregnancy and then off her back. Did he love her? That day she popped their daughter into the world, there was nobody more amazing. So yeah, he loved her. But she didn't love him and she probably never would. He'd always be the guy who knocked her up at sixteen, ruining her perfect little life. And those feelings he had for her, they faded. Until she was just Quinn again. Quinn who had a baby once that she gave up. A baby that was his. But the Quinn and Puck bubble broke or exploded or just popped all fucking quiet like and he let it, even preferred it that way. 'Cause the last thing he needed was another person looking up at him and thinking _loser_.

"And as for the ATM, well… I'm just surprised it took until October for you to react like you did." Sighing, Rachel sat up and frowned. "Your entire life changed, Noah." She turned to look at him, her brows furrowed. "You had a baby at sixteen and you had to give her away." She stared at him searchingly. "If that doesn't call for acting out, I'm not sure what does."

He swallowed tightly, because his buzz was slipping and Rachel Berry was looking at him like she _understood_. But he didn't want her to. He didn't want her sympathy or her pat on the back or her 'it'll get better.' He didn't need her to tell him what he did was okay, that he was forgiven, or absolve him or the fuck ever. He _didn't_. Even if it felt good, even if hearing it come from her made him think maybe he wasn't a total tool. He wanted to yell at her, send her running, make her wish she'd never shown him any of this forgiveness shit. Because she shouldn't. 'Cause he'd just fuck up again and again and she'd just have to keep coming back and telling him he'd do it right next time, she believed in him. And why the fuck could this girl that he threw slushees at for _years _forgive him, even _like _him, when his own dad couldn't muster up the interest to hang around long enough for him to grow up?

They were back to being quiet again. She let her eyes fall and turned back around to sit and wait and when the fuck did she grow some patience? She tucked her arms through the sleeves of his jacket and they were so long they covered past her hands. She brought the open ends up and blew inside to warm her fingers, 'cause apparently she was settling in for awhile.

His foot tapped and he watched her, just sitting there with the wind blowing through her hair and cold enough to make her cheeks red. His eyes dropped too her legs, bouncing a little, covered in goosebumps. Frowning, he stood up, stuffing his hands in his jeans and staring down at her. "C'mon."

She glanced up, but didn't ask, instead rising to walk along the elevated bench while he moved across the cement next to her. She wobbled a little and her hand fell to his shoulder for balance before she hopped down off the end, skirt bouncing. She looked back at him and waited for him to take lead on wherever he was going. He rolled his eyes, grabbed one of her ice cold hands and dragged her along behind him. She had to take two little steps for every one of his long strides and it never failed to amuse him. A half-smile escaped before he tamped it down. He strode toward his truck, dug his keys out and unlocked her side first; grabbing her tiny waist and boosting her up before she could start asking questions. He circled and jumped in the other side, stuffing the keys in the ignition and turning it on. He reached over and stabbed the button to turn on the heat and then leaned back in the seat. He didn't have anywhere to drive and nowhere came to mind; he was just sick of seeing her freeze. Not that he like _cared _or anything…

Breathing a sigh of relief, she held her hands over the vent to warm them up. She smiled brightly, humming under her breath.

"Shit's cold out. You should'a put some clothes on," he told her gruffly.

She looked over at him, the picture of innocence. "When your mother called, she was very worried. I'm afraid I wasn't thinking of proper dress-wear at the time."

His lips pursed. "So you just hopped in your little tin can and decided to trip aroundLimalooking for me?"

"My Prius is hardly a _tin can_, Noah. It happens to be a very cost-effective, eco-friendly vehicle." She shrugged, adding, "And I had a vague idea where you might go."

He cocked a brow. "Yeah? 'Cause I had no idea where I was going when I left…"

She smiled. "You're a creature of habit." She lifted a shoulder. "Like when Lauren and you broke up and you went to the bleachers. Only that time you had a slushee and if I remember correctly… A bag of Cadbury chocolate eggs because they reminded you of her…" She quirked a brow. "And there was the time you got your first rejection letter from college and you wound up right here again. I believe on that occasion you were imbibing tequila." She nodded. "And then there was the time you—"

"All right, whatever, so I get rejected a lot." He scowled, running a hand over his 'hawk. "Fuck if you didn't _start _the tradition."

Her brows furrowed. "Of rejection or the bleachers?"

"Pretty obvious the old man started the rejection train, Berry," he sighed. "You're the one who dumped me out there. Something about fantasies and wanting things too much and how you still wanted to be my friend." He scoffed, shrugging. But he remembered what she said word for word, not only 'cause she was the first girl to really dump him, and Santana and her crazy didn't even _count_, but 'cause in the short time they spent together he was actually really getting into it. Like seriously, he _quit _football for her! What the fuck more does a guy gotta do?

Her hand reached out and touched his and it only served to remind him of when she squeezed his shoulder after she dumped his ass. But this time, she gripped his fingers and turned so she was looking at him. "What did your father say, Noah?"

He considered changing the subject, telling her to fuck off, kicking her out of his truck and getting himself another bottle of something. But he was pissed and sad and shit if there wasn't anybody else he wanted to talk to right now. Like Mr. Shue always said to call, but what the hell did that guy know about any of this? And how was he supposed to talk to him about it? 'Cause yeah, dude was cool, for like a _teacher_, but Berry'd been around since he was just a kid. Like legit, when he lost a tooth in pre-school, she washed it off for him, wrapped it in a paper towel, and told him that if he tucked it under his pillow he would get money for it. And when he didn't, 'cause he didn't even tell his mom, Rachel gave him a dollar and told him the Tooth Fairy missed his house but dropped the money off at her place to give to him. And 'cause he was a dumb little kid, he believed her. This chick had been around since he was playing with blocks and avoiding nap-time; she knew all about his dad, his mom, and his bratty little sister that always wanted him to braid her dollies hair. Sure, they had a falling out when he was like nine and Quinn smiled at him in the same breath she said Rachel was ugly and the rest of the class collectively agreed, making her an outcast pretty much from then on, but she was still like _around_. Like at JCC and Temple, she was tight with his ma and she took dance classes at the same studio his little sister went, so she was like a _constant _in his life, even when he didn't _want _her to be.

Except he started wanting her around again, when he was sixteen and got his best friend's girlfriend pregnant and she forgave him for all the stupid shit he did to her. When he got slusheed for the first time and she cleaned him up. When he was pretty sure it wasn't worth sticking around glee if he had to go through that totally shit feeling of being emasculated as he dug ice out of his underwear. Since he picked her and glee anyway, deciding he'd take the slushee facials if it meant she was going to stand by him and make it worth it. And then shit hit the fan and it changed and he was gonna be a dad with no daughter and she was with Finn and it was like that whole _maybe _scenario just went right out the window. They got their shit together again, after her and Finn broke up, and maybe had a part in that, and then Quinn and Finn got back together and Rachel was on the outside looking in again. They'd been working on the friendship thing since his whole porta-potty promise to God that he'd be better, to Jews at least, which was mostly just her 'cause the only other Jew in school was Jacob Ben-Israel and he wasn't even sure God would _care_ if he beat up on that dude. But whatever. Him andBerry were tight again. Maybe not as much as when they were kids, but as much as a couple of teenagers could be with as much history as they had. So she was pretty much the only person he was going to admit this shit to; nobody else got it, or cared.

"He replaced me," he finally said.

She didn't say anything, just held his hand and waited. And he kind of hated that the one time he needed her to be annoying, so he'd have a reason to freak the fuck out on her, she just wasn't.

"He's got a new son, new wife, new _family_…" He ground his teeth. "Thought he'd call us up, let us know… Y'know…" He turned to look at her darkly. "Just in case I ran into some kid who looked like me, had the same last name… Same _dad_." He laughed humorlessly. "_Thirteen _years and I thought… I don't know… Maybe… maybe he just got lost. _Fuck_, maybe he got into an accident, lost his memory, didn't realize he'd left us behind…" His chin wobbled and he shook his head. "But fuck if that wasn't too much to ask for."

"Noah… I'm sorry…" She wiggled across the bench seat, rubbing her hand up his forearm. "You didn't deserve that."

He inhaled deeply, letting out on a long sigh as his head fell back, knocking against the window. "I picked up and for a second, just a _second_ I thought… Maybe he's calling to say congratulations…" He licked his lips. "_Congratulations _son, you're fucking _graduating_. Better than I ever did." He licked his lips. "His kid's starting grade one." He looked over at her, a tear leaking out. "He left us before I could get to _kindergarten_, but his _new _son… _He _gets to have a dad through all that shit."

"It's unfair," she agreed.

He snorted, nodding.

"It hurts."

He looked away, glaring out the front window.

"I'm here to listen, Noah. All you have to do is talk to me and I'll—"

"Hey, you know what, you don't have to do anything, Rachel," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Y'know, it's not like I'm still five, right? Not like I'm gonna be sitting around _every night_ asking mom 'when's daddy coming home?' Y'know?" He swallowed tightly, gripping her hand tight in his. "Who needs him?" He turned to stare at her. "Hey, he wasn't there to teach me how to shoot my first basket, but I learned it, didn't I?" He cocked a brow. "And I got pretty damn good at it too, didn't I, Rach?"

She stared up at him, her eyes damp with tears. "Yes, you did."

"Got through my first _date _without him, right? Got through half the _cheerleading _squad and didn't need any tips." He shook his head angrily. "I learned how to ride a bike, I learned how to shave, I learned how to _fight _without him." He slammed his hand down against the steering wheel before gripping it until his knuckles were white. "I had _thirteen _great birthdays without him; he never sent me a _damn _card. I didn't need him then, I _won't_ need him now!"

She reached for him, cupping his cheek. "Noah…"

"No, you know what, Berry? I'm gonna get through college without him. I'm gonna get a great _job _without him. I'm gonna marry a beautiful chick and I'm having a whole _bunch _of kids. I'm gonna be a better father than he _ever_ was." He blinked rapidly against the burning in his eyes while she just nodded up at him, her mouth trembling. "And I sure as_ hell _don't need him for that, 'cause there isn't a _damn _thing he can teach me about how to love my kids! The hell with him! I—" He choked on a sob, angry when the tears fell down his face. He reached up and dragged an arm across but they just kept coming. His chest heaved, ached, and he couldn't quite catch his breath as he clenched his teeth and fell apart. She wiped them for him, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. He stared at her as she cried too. "Why didn't he want me?"

She shook her head, leaning up and wrapping her arms around his neck, dragging him forward and hugging him tight to her chest. Any other day, he'd have mentioned how he didn't get this much boob action when he was _dating _her, but right then, all he could do was wrap his arms around her and cry. She dragged her nails through his 'hawk and rubbed the back of his neck. When the position got awkward for her, she moved to sit in his lap and his head fell to her shoulder. He was pretty sure there was a whole lot of snot and tears all over his jacket and her hair, but he wasn't willing to move his face to see. His eyes fell to half-closed when she started humming; he didn't get it right away, but he caught on after a few seconds. Sweet Caroline. Her hands slid down the back of his head and along his neck, one after the other, while she rocked them side to side and just kept humming, before finally murmuring softly, "_And when I hurt, Hurting runs off my shoulder, How can I hurt when holding you…_"

She stilled after a moment, her cheek pressed to his. "He was an idiot, Noah," she whispered. "A Grade-A, soulless, brainless, _heartless_ jerk who was too ignorant to realize that the boy he left behind was worth more than anything he might've gained." She squeezed his shoulder. "The greatest mistake of his life will forever be the day he walked away. But the greatest triumph of yours can be the day you realize that _your _life didn't end when you were five. Maybe it paused, maybe it slipped off track, maybe it hindered your growth some, but it did _not_ stop you…" She squeezed him close. "Because you are going to go on to do amazing things. Things you father never imagined for you or even himself. Things that he was never talented or intelligent enough to accomplish. And maybe he'll regret it, maybe he'll know then what he lost, but it won't _matter_… Because what matters is that you and your life went on, that you did those things all on your own, that you were strong enough to make something of yourself and you didn't need to compromise your family or those you cared about to do it. Because you, Noah Puckerman, are _not _your father. You're so very much _better_ than him."

He squeezed his eyes tight and he hugged her close and for the first time since forever, he actually believed he _might _be. He _didn't _need Eli Puckerman. Didn't need his bullshit or his excuses or anything he had to offer. He was eighteen fucking years old. He was graduating high school. He was accepted into college and he was going to major in architecture and music. He was getting out of Lima and the only time he was gonna look back was to make sure his mom and his sister were doing all right. 'Cause his life wasn't in some tiny little podunk town that had nothing to offer him. His life was bigger and better and it had _nothing _to do with the deadbeat that walked out on him when he was five.

They stayed like that awhile longer, until it was too warm in the truck and she had to take his jacket off. He leaned back, head against the glass, his hands on her hips, and just stared at her a long minute. "Thanks," he muttered.

She quirked her head and smiled at him. "I meant everything I said."

He nodded. That's why it meant so damn much. "I know."

She cupped his face and leaned forward so they were eye to eye. "The next time you're upset, feel encouraged to simply visit my house."

He half-smirked. "I dunno… If I didn't come out here, you wouldn't've been wearing my jacket; 's hot." He shrugged. "And you probably wouldn't be in my lap." He cocked a brow. "Even hotter."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "Or I'd by in your lap _while _in my bed…" She smirked right back before climbing off to sit next to him.

He was a little slack-jawed, 'cause who _expected _that from _her? _"Y'can't tease a dude like that, Berry."

She laughed lightly. "Who said I was teasing?"

He stared at her, grinning. "This is what it takes for you to gimme another chance? A few tears and some poor-is-me shit over daddy dearest?"

"Such a way with words," she muttered, turning in her seat. "Noah, you can break this down however you like, but the truth of the matter is, when you're upset or you're hurting, you turn to alcohol, the bleachers, self-loathing and occasionally crime… And the only sane voice you'll listen to is mine." She raised a hand. "I'm not saying that out of arrogance, I'm simply stating a fact." She shrugged her shoulders. "For whatever reason, you've chosen to confide in me, time and time again, and I will always be a willing ear…" She peered up at him. "But our friendship has always been tentative at best, and while I was the first to deny it, there's really no reason to… We have chemistry. Very obvious, very physical in nature, but balanced out nicely by the fact that we happen to like each other while tempering each other's less attractive traits without even meaning to. Simply put, we're genuine with one another and accept each other just as." She raised a brow. "I think that'd translate well into a relationship. I'm aware that you usually subsist on a string of emotionless sexual relations with girls you hardly take the time to get to know, but I'm also sure that given the right woman, circumstance and interest, that you could happily engage in a full-fledged relationship." She nodded. "So yes, I suppose it does take a little emotional breakthrough for us to try our hand at—"

He leaned forward and kissed her, mouth slanting hotly against her. Her lips parted and his tongue reached for hers, naturally. Hand burying in her hair, he cupped her neck and pulled her forward until she was back in his lap again and all her big ass fancy words were long gone. He grinned, 'cause this feeling, this heat and pressure, like she wanted so much and she couldn't get it all fast enough, was familiar and he'd missed it. Her teeth dug into his lip and he chuckled lowly. He'd missed that too. She paused, mumbling, "Sorry," before dragging her fingers through his 'hawk again and laving his lip with her tongue. Those long, drugging kisses that make him hazier than half a bottle of Jack, slowed down to soft, sipping kisses where she was just nibbling and sucking his lips, nuzzling their noses together.

Finally, he sighed, slouching so his head was on the back of his seat as he stared up at her, tucking her long hair behind her ear and tugging on the lobe lightly. "You sure you're ready for this?" He quirked a brow. "'Cause I'm all in and I'm not…" He sighed. "We need to be on the same page here, Rach… 'Cause you're like light-years ahead of me in just about everything and I've been like half in love with you for like ever…"

She smiled softly. "It has been you for a long time, Noah… But the timing has always been difficult and I was never quite sure where your feelings for me were at." She shook her head. "Truth to be told, I've missed you in my life. And this, with you here but not close enough, it's been a subpar existence thus far. I think we'd be much happier together."

"I only applied to colleges inNew Yorkbecause of you," he told her, half-shrugging. 'Cause apparently even when they weren't together he needed her close.

"Do you suppose there are any bleachers we could find for these emotional outbursts?" she teased.

He grinned. "I'm good with your room, your bed, you in my lap…"

She smiled. "I would hope so. I imagine all three will become a headlining feature in your near future."

He rubbed his hands up and down her back soothingly. "They're gonna stay that way."

She pecked his lips and then his neck and then nuzzled her face into his shoulder and just laid there awhile.

Awhile turned into a lot of years. 'Cause he did exactly what they both said he would. He left Lima, went to college, made something of himself, married one really hot chick, and had a bunch of awesome Jewish kids with her. He never really kept up with what went on in Eli's life and he didn't care to. He saw him once, fifteen years later, while he was visiting his mom in Lima. Him, his wife and their eldest son, five year old Jared, were walking through the grocery store to pick up a few necessities for a big family dinner when he spotted a balding man across the aisle, his face lined with wrinkles and his green eyes so similar to Puck's own were dull with age. Eli stared, his brow furrowed, like he was surprised to see him, alive or in Limaor whatever. But instead of wondering or asking or even thinking on it too much, Puck kept moving, continuing on down the aisle with his family. And he didn't look back, didn't _need_ to. His life was full and incredible and he didn't need to rub it in the old man's face to make it any better. He got everything he wanted and deserved.

"Noah?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Do we have pickles at your mom's home?"

He snorted. "Like three jars." His mom had stocked up on craving foods just for their visit.

She frowned, eyes darting away.

He laughed. "You _ate _three jars of pickles?"

She glared up at him. "That is not my fault and I resent—" She sniffled, her eyes tearing up.

He rolled his eyes. "Babe, I know when you're faking."

"_Fine!_" She stomped her foot. "But when this child is born and has an unfathomable hunger for pickles you'll rue this moment where you blamed me and not your constantly hungry spawn!" She pushed the cart forward and shuffled after it, kind of waddling even though she hated when he called it that.

"Jare," he said, looking down at his son and ruffling his little mohawk. "Your mom is bat-shit crazy."

"I heard that, Noah Puckerman! And _what _have I told you about that kind of repulsive language around our very impressionable son and unborn fetus?"

He smirked, shaking his head after her affectionately. "We love her anyway, don't we bud?"

Jared shrugged. "Hormones," he sighed.

Snorting, he grabbed his boy up and threw him over his shoulder. "Amen dude." Hurrying his steps, he called out, "Rach, wait up… You shouldn't be lifting heavy shit… and I _know _you're loading up on pickles!"

"You're lucky I love you!" she shouted back at him.

He grinned. Yeah. He was. And he never forgot it. It was half the reason he was where he was today. The other half? Himself. 'Cause he was a hell of a lot more determined without his old man's ghost hanging around dragging him down. He got free fifteen years ago and he'd been that way since. The bleachers and the drinking were a thing of the past. In this instance, this son was nothing like his father and he aimed to keep it that way.

He succeeded.

[**End.**]


End file.
